Page 32 of Unspoken Words
“And I got these from Mum and Dad.” I sprung up from the bed and pointed to my Converse-covered toes. “They’re my third pair. I have them in black and pink too. The next colour I’m gonna get is red, or maybe yellow.”
“Nice. I have a white pair.”
“Boring,” I teased.
Connor frisbeed the pillow back at me, hitting me square in the face before it fell to my feet.
I blinked then stared at it, blinking again before I bent down and picked it up. When I looked in Connor’s direction, his hands were raised in surrender, his eyes wide with shock.
He gulped. “Sorry, I—”
Swinging the pillow, I whacked him in the gut then over the head. Relentless.
“Hey!” he said, covering his face with his hands. “For a brightly coloured person, you’re very strong.”
I whacked him again.
“Stop! I come in peace, Munchkin of Munchkin land.”
Whack. Whack.
“I thought your kind were supposed to be friendly.”
WHACK.
“Maybe you’re the wicked witch in disguise.”
Pausing my attack, I placed my hand on my hip, the pizza pillow dangling from my fingertip. “No, if I were any character from the Wizard of Oz, I’d be Dorothy.”
Connor peeked through his spread fingers. “Dorothy? Na, you’re more like the good witch with the red hair.”
“The good witch was a softie.” I tossed the pillow back onto my bed. “Dorothy was badarse—she killed the bitch who tried to steal her shoes. If anyone tried to steal my Chucks, I’d drop a house on them too.”
Connor burst into laughter. “Yeah, I reckon you would.”
I just shrugged and smiled with admiration at my pointed toe.
“So,” he said, picking up a notebook from my desk, “what else did you get for your birthday?”
Stepping forward, I removed the notebook from his hands and placed it back down. “This,” I grumbled, and made my way over to my wardrobe, opening the door and riffling through my clothes until I pulled out a brown knitted jumper. “It’s from my gran. She made it.”
Connor’s face contorted. “Niiiiiiice.”
“Nice? It’s poo brown,” I said, turning the coat hanger around. “And it has a bear on the back. A BEAR!” Astonished, I shook my head then shoved it back among my clothes before closing the door. “Madonna would never wear a bear jumper. EVER!”
He chuckled and placed his hands in his pockets. “So … did you get anything else?”
“Yeah. I got some jewellery from Mum and Dad, and a notebook from my friend.”
“What kind of jewellery?” Connor all of a sudden seemed anxious, as if he was annoyed someone had bought me jewellery.
“These,” I said, stepping up to him, my cheek turned in his direction. I lifted my hair to expose my earlobe. “They’re book-shaped earrings. Aren’t they cute?”
He sighed with relief, the corners of his mouth arching into a smile as he studied them. “Yeah. They really suit you.”
I sighed with relief too, all of a sudden aware that I wanted him to like what I wore and what I looked like. No one else’s opinion mattered. Only his.
Slowly pulling his hand out of his pocket, he glanced down at a small velvet box clenched tight within his fingers. “I … I got you something else, just from me. Mum didn’t help me choose it,” he blurted out.
